Exit Light
by glittergoddess13
Summary: When a hunt goes wrong, Dean becomes a victim in a sleepless nightmare of madness & violence. Can Sam save Dean before Dean hurts himself or will Dean become too great a threat?  LimpDean! LimpSam! HurtDean! HurtSam! ProtectiveSam! Thriller! Emotion!
1. Tripping the Light

Thanks for reading. Any and all comments are welcome and appreciated. This one is my personal favorite (My baby if you will-ha ha he he). I write my fics on my 15 minute work breaks just for giggles (that's about all the giggle I can get at work). I hope you enjoy them as much as I do writing them.

**Exit Light**

A small spattering of the flickering neon light splashed over Dean's face. It was the only source of illumination in the room. The random flickering only covered a quarter of his chiseled face with a scarlet glow. The rest of him was embraced by the darkness inside the abandon apartment complex. His body tightly crouched against the cool bricks that flanked a shattered window. He was wired with anticipation like an owl waiting to feast upon its unsuspecting prey. Below the lack of foot traffic created a peculiar stillness and silence. Occasionally, a siren or a stray dog would resonant in the distance reassuring Dean that the silence was merely tranquility before a tempest. His hand grappled the weapon at his side. He flexed each finger in a waving tap upon the weapon's hilt. A petrichor scent lingered from the recent downpour.

Below the sound of the fire escape ladder extending skittered up the expanse to Dean's awaiting ears. Even though it was ten stories below his current position, he knew it would not take long before the target arrived. Dean flicked his head in a hasty nod across the room to Sam. Sam countered in kind and inhaled a deep breath to prepare for battle.

Crawling through the empty window near Dean's position, a tall strapping man entered his lair. Quickly straightening himself, the man brushed away the stray paint chips from the forgotten window frame. Seizing the opportunity, Dean pounced upon the man's brawny shoulders and grasped tightly. Dean bellowed, "Sam! Now!"

Sam's flare gun erupted and the flame spiraled towards Dean's captive. The man roared in rage that echoed in the emptiness. Flexing his body unnaturally and splintering into evaporating partials in Dean's grasping arms; the man left a void in his place. The flare continued onwards with Dean now in its path. Sam bolted towards his brother as if he had the power to move faster than the projectile.

Twisting and pivoting, Dean stopped the flare from hitting him square in the abdomen, but too late to keep the flame from charring his side. Before he had time to react to the minor injury, the man had reconstituted to his solid form. An army boot smashed into Dean's jaw sending him crashing to the floor with a reverberating thud. The man's long, ebony hair flipped as he turned his attention to Sam. The man's dark amber eyes filled with glee as he slammed a fist into Sam's face. Sam crashed back, but swung his long legs to swipe the man's feet from under him. The man started to plunge, but quickly returned to his powdery gold dust form. The dust swirled towards the apartment door in an attempt to absquatulate. Returning once more to concrete form, the man smiled broadly at Sam. Then he quickly bounded uncannily up the hallway stairs leading to the upper floors.

Pushing himself up with his palms, Dean winched and popped his jaw. Frustration filled him into his supreme hunting mode. "Son of a Bitch!" Dean uttered as he extended his hand to upright Sam. Sam's lower lip dripped a small trickle of blood, but he nodded to indicate he was fine. The interaction only last a second, but the brothers had learned each others subtle insinuations during their many battles. "We'll that evaporation crap wasn't in any legend. WAS It Sammy?!" Dean patted Sam's back fondly and without further words, they scurried up the stairs to put an end to this evil fiend.

Sam and Dean raced up the stairs until they reached the roof access door. Dean ruthlessly kicked the door and it swung widely open. Exiting the stairwell, Dean took lead with his flare gun drawn and ready. Sam quickly followed right behind Dean's heels. They could not find a visual on their prey. The roof expanse was an abyss of nothingness Dean and Sam inched further upon the wet, gravel packed roof. Suddenly, the man's form remerged and crashed a boot into the side of Sam's head.

Hurdling over the roofs edge, Sam screamed "DEAN!" His brother named echoed in the sound void as his body started its descent.

Dean's eyes widened in shock as he roared "Sammy!"


	2. Dusted

Dean stampeded to the ledge in hysteria. His breathing ceased momentarily, but returned when he observed Sam grasping the neon sign that had once provided illumination in the apartment below. Dean jutted out his arms and latched them around Sam's upper arms.

The stalwart man stood watching. His desire to escape had been replaced by jocularity.

Normally, Dean wouldn't have let anything stop a hunt, but Dean's cacoethes was to secure Sam. Thunder laced the sky and rain once again breached through. In moments, Dean and Sam were saturated causing the struggle to become harder. Refusing to loose any ground, Dean dug his boots into the drenched gravel. Frantically, Dean pulled at his brother's long arms. His face smashed with effort and his breath coming in grunts and burst. "Sam, Hold On! I've got ya, buddy. Get a foothold! I'm not going to let you fall."

Sam loosened one hand from the sign and allowed it to grasp his brother's extended arm. Dean's feet scooted in the gravel creating a deep grove, but still they refused to abdicate. Sam quickly loosed his other hand from the sign and gripped Dean's other arm tenaciously. "Dean…ahh.."

Sam tried to drive his gangly legs against the brick exterior to thrust energy to Dean's efforts. Whitening and straining from exhaustion, Dean's arms twitched. His grip was getting weaker, but he outlawed the idea of letting Sam fall the ten stories below. Sam kicked ferociously as his boots slithered off the wet bricks.

The emptiness of sound was now filled by the man's chortles, the boy's grunts of effort, the pouring rain, and the thunder rumbles, creating a strange cacophony of sounds.

Amusement played on the man's lips as he realized Dean would be a great source of enjoyment for him. This one would definitely not surrender as easily as the others. Wiggling his fingers in a spherical motion, a bantam heap of fine gold dust constituted into the man's palms. Slowly creeping closer, the man stalked towards Dean. Too distracted to protect himself, Dean was helpless to prevent the man from his sinister plan. The man inhaled deeply and blew the dust into Dean's face.

The power invaded Dean's eyes and nasal passages. Some mixed with the rain upon his face, which absorbed into his skin. An acidic taste filled Dean's mouth and proceeded to inflame his lungs with an intense feeling of formication. Dean eyes flutter precipitately and his airway tightened. His torso jerked causing his grip on Sammy to loosen.

Sam's slipped an exiguous amount of inches, but Dean' vigor swelled and he tightened his grasp once more. The prickling sensation remained, his head was hazy, and his breathe was asthmatic gasps

The man snickered, as Dean grunted with extreme effort.

Glibly the man said, "You have just met the harbinger of your destruction."

The man changed to vapor dust once more and floated down to the street below. Dean didn't even acknowledge or glance at the man's exit. His regard for his brother and the pounding in his head were more than enough to occupy him.

Dean continued tugging upon Sam. Finally found a sufficient foothold, Sam used his lanky legs to oomph himself up in a half collapse on Dean. Dean pushed Sam up until his brother's footing was secure upon the wet rocks below his feet.

"Whew...that was.." Sam started, but was stopped when he notice the ragged breaths coming from Dean.

Dean?...Sam sucked in air harshly as realization set in. Screeching in alarm, "He dusted you Dean!" Sam's arm reached to touch the dust that fell upon Dean's jacket shoulder.

Dean quickly swatted the hand away "Dude, get off me! Dean forced his breathe to even as best as he could but the sensation in his lungs, face and head had not subsided. Putting on a brave face he said, "I'm fine."

In a hushed quiet voice, Sam's concern grew more intense. "Dean? He dusted you. You know what that means. You're going to.."

Growing more agitated, "Ah... Sammy I swear..." Dean said defiantly looking his brother square in the eye, "Will you... JUST..just stow the sentimental bullshit crap. We have to find that sucker." Dean threw his arms in the air, turned abruptly, and then bolted to the roof access door.

Sam stood alone of the roof for a minute. His eyes were soft and lamenting. His lip flinched and shuttered causing his tongue to dart over his lower lip. Sam inhaled a quick sniffle as he mouthed a whisper to the now quiet air. "We're in trouble Dean." He allowed the rain to pour over his face for a moment before he followed Dean down the stairwell.


	3. Madness Begins

The motel door swung open and Dean galumphed his carcass to the table. He plopped his rear into the creaky wooden chair. His body quivered lightly, his head ached as if a spike had split it in two, and the tingling in his lungs had started to spread thorough his head and body.

Entering quietly, Sam closed the door gregariously. Sitting across from Dean, Sam sat motionless staring and waiting for words to spring forth. He closed his eyes slowly and allowed them to hover in that state for several minutes. His mind was racing about what had happened, what was to happen, and how they could stop what was to happen. Grimacing, Sam final drew courage to speak to his brother.

Quietly, he allowed words to spring forth, "Dean, are you okay?

The silence was the only response. "Your shaking, Dean. I'm worr…."

Annoyed at himself more than Sam, Dean finally spoke too harshly, "Dude, I'm soaking wet and cold!" Pulling off his water logged jacket, Dean looked at it in disgust.

Sucking in a deep breath, Sam decided to change his tactics. He spoke again, but chose to approach Dean with the facts at hand.

"So, I'm gonna search again to find if any obscure legends are out there on Sandmen." Sam allowed a moment for Dean to chime in, but it passed without Dean attempting a comment.

Sam cleared his throat and began again, "That turning intangible thing was not reference anywhere in the legend and if we are going to fight this we have to find a weakness to..."

Dean could have kicked himself for just yelling at Sam. It wasn't Sam's fault this happened. Calmly interrupting this time, Dean uttered "Sam, most people think the Sandman is a happy little man in pointed hat that brings you happiness and rainbows. Which, we know ain't true. Dad's research tells us their sick sociopaths with homicidal tendencies. They feed upon other people miseries and nightmares."

Optimistically, Sam tried to inspire his faith in his brother. "Yeah, but we can trap him. Once we figure out a place to lure him that he can't turn into a swirl of dust, we can kill him with fire. We haven't let anything stop us before"

Slightly more animated and closer to his usual self, Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we tried that and it didn't turn out so well. He sighed and knew that Sam needed to hear he wasn't giving up. His face was gentle as he spoke solacingly. "Sam, I get it. I know you're freaked. It's not like this thing hasn't killed two other people in this town."

Sam gulped a breath of air in an attempt to keep his voice even, but it was an exercise in futility. "Dean!" His voice cracked. "That thing drove those people insane. They went on a rampage of destruction before they committed suicide."

"We'll those people aren't me. I'm grabbing a shower". Dean eased himself up and rambled towards the shower.

"Yeah, we best get some shut eye because tomorrow we're picking up that suckers trail." Sam paused for Dean to acknowledge the gauntlet he had just thrown.

Silence lingered once more and Dean turned, stepped in the bathroom, and closed the door.

-x-xx-x-xx-x-xx-x-x-x

As the door shut, Sam realized his sopping wet clothes were sending a shiver down his own spine. He crossed to his duffel bag and quickly located some dry clothes. Pulling his flannel and t-shirt off, Sam's realized his upper arms ached from hanging from that neon sign. An involuntary grunt escaped his lips. He kneaded each shoulder blade in turn. He bent backwards and allowed his back to pop before he pulled on his sweatshirt. He quickly shed his shoes, his dripping socks, his water heavy jeans and skivvies. He flopped on his bed and quickly pulled on new skivvies and dry jeans. Glancing out the window, Sam thought his mood was mirrored by the crepuscular morning that had arrived. He wanted to forget the cold and miserable night, but he knew the ramifications of loosing this battle was far from over.

Easing himself back into the chair, Sam switched his computer screen on. He had already researched the sandman when this hunt had started. Most of the useful knowledge was mere speculation from his Dad's journal. Stories and half truths from other hunters and God knows where. No one had ever faced them to Sam's knowledge or made it back, if they did. Searching again was pointless, but it gave him something to fixate on instead of aggravating Dean. His finger lingered upon a page he had marked. He clicked up a page he had found at the beginning of this mess, the story of a local woman gone mad. Now, he wished he hadn't found the story of Karen Brown.

-x-xx-xx-x-x-xx-x-xx-xx-

Throwing his wet clothes harshly in the bathroom floor, Dean stared at his bleary eyes for moment. Turning the water to a temperature so hot it was almost unbearable. He crawled in and leaned against the far shower wall. The sensation of crawling under his skin had crept thorough his entire body. In the back of his mind, a voice had already arrived. He knew the Sandman was there waiting to drive him mad, to feed upon his fears, and take his soul. He and the Sandman were connected now and no one had ever survived. He forced his mind to focus on the something devoid of emotions- the weapons in his trunk. He started listing them aloud, "A bowie knife, rock salt…Yeah… we need to get more rock salt…the ax, a stun gun…." Dean stared at the tile patterns in the shower and blinked slowly. "A flare gun, holy water, a…" One more blink and the image before Dean changed.

_"You think that will work, Dean?" the Sandman gloated. _

_Dean found himself standing in the Sandman's lair once more, at least a version contained in his mind._

_"I'll give you that it has taken longer to break into your mind that most. It took three hours to get this far. I've never known anyone to last more than 15 minutes. I can see we are going to have some fun together. You have some real nice issues we can explore." The Sandman's disembodied voice echoed in the expanse_

_"Where are you, where are you Freddy Kruger? I know your here!" Dean displayed the __Winchester__ Bravado effortlessly._

_The Sandman appeared before him. "Nice, but you can't hide with one-liners in here. This is your own little world Dean. The place in your head where the lies you tell yourself converse with the truths below the surface. __A broadcast of the real Dean Winchester."_

_"Welcome to Prime Time, Bi__t__ch!" Dean said smugly._

_The Sandman laughed hysterically. "__I have such sights to show you that will __tear your soul apart"._

_Dean's skin tingled again, but when he looked holes had appeared in his arms. Crawling from under his skin, large cockroaches and insects were quickly covering him. It was mere seconds that his entire body was covered. Clicking and hissing, as more cracked from within and began to devour his skin. Gnawing and ripping him apart from the inside out._

_Throbbing in intense pain, Dean toppled over and howled in intense agony. His entire body inflamed and wailed in wretchedness. As he screamed, the insects started to permeate his mouth. He continued to scream as they wiggling mass chocked any air from getting to him._


	4. Concern

Lost in thought, Sam was so startled to hear Dean screaming that he came crashing out of his chair. He bounded across the short distance and began pounding on the door "Dean!"

"Dean, open the door!" his fist flailing upon the bathroom door.

-x-xx-x-x-x-xx-x-xx--x

Jerking wildly, Dean walloped at his arms and torso. Distantly, he could hear Sam yelling and pounding ferociously. Dean had slid down the shower wall during the phantasm until the water stream was now striking his face. Still ballistic over his vision, he jumped from the shower quickly still scanning the area for crawling bugs. Ultimately realizing he had returned to reality, Dean could now hear the panic stricken Sam.

"Dean! OPEN THIS DMN DOOR OR I'M KICKING IT IN,!" Sam screamed at the door.

Stuttering slightly, Dean uttered uneasily thorough the door, "Sam. I'm fine. I'll be out in a moment." His breath raged with fear and his eyes darted wildly in disbelief.

Grabbing the towel in case Sam actually didn't believe the words he spoke, Dean sheathed his waist.

-x-x-x-xx-x-xx-x-x-xx-

Although Sam didn't buy that Dean was fine, he was relieved to hear his brother's shaky voice responding. Fear and worry spread through Sam like wildfire, but he refused to add to Dean's troubles at the moment. Leaning against the bathroom door, Sam spoke gently, "Dean…it's started." Sam moved a few steps back from the door allowing Dean time to become comfortable or composed enough to answer or emerge.

-x-x-x-xx-x-xx-x-x-xx-

Leaning his palms upon the cool sink counter, Dean took several stuttered breaths as his lips and teeth chattered. He admonished himself for allowing the Sandman to freak him in such a way. As if he was challenging himself to regain calm, Dean stared at his reflection watching the adrenaline overload causing his body to shake. Finally he decided he couldn't do anymore to control his body's involuntary reactions to the ungodly sensation he had just experienced. Turning away from his reflection, he slowly opened the door to Sam's compassionate face. A face that seemed to be on the verge of panic and tears.

Viewing Dean's state, Sam sucked in a hard breath of air and found words had escaped him. He allowed his lungs to push the aching air from him trying to find words that would comfort his loving brother.

Gently tapping Sam's arm to acknowledge that he understood Sam's intentions, Dean spoke bewilderedly, "I'm fine, Sam. I just need a moment.

Pressing his lips together, Sam nodded in sympathy. He realized Dean had left the showering pouring and utilized the excuse to give his brother a few deserving minutes of peace.

Spotting his duffel next to his bed, Dean quickly grabbed a pair of jockeys and a T-shirt. He quickly pulled them on and sat back upon his bed. Sam had finished his task, but remained in the bathroom for a few moments. Peeking out the door, Sam could see Dean staring at the strange morning brewing outside- the odd mixture that looked more like twilight than a breaking dawn. Leaning against the bathroom door's frame, Sam felt he would burst if he didn't speak to Dean. As he exited the restroom, Sam, feeling it was time to speak, hunkered down beside Dean.

Dean was breathing deeply, trying to regain some calmness. Sam said softly, "It HAS started? Dean….I…."

Too tired and too freaked to lie, Dean didn't sugarcoat the truth for Sam. "It's started, Sam. And it was worse than I thought it was going to be."

Sam touched his brother's arm and grasped it gently. Fear and panic were gripping Sam as his brother's gaunt face remained in a horrific state of abhorrence.

Stilling kneeling beside Dean, Sam waited for more information. Dean simply lowered his eyelids and relished not seeing anything but darkness. Belatedly, in a bereaved whisper, Dean spoke. "I'm okay, Sam. I just need to get some sleep."

Dean shifted further in his bed extending his aching body and legs out. A small groan was the only other thing Dean uttered as he turned his face away from the crouching Sam.

Sam's melancholy face lingered upon his brother back for moment, before he gave up and returned to his computer screen.

The computer still displayed the news story about Karen Brown. Lost more in thought than reading, his mind drifted back to how this mess had started. The beginning of what would lead to his brother's death.


	5. Magnolia, Lies, and Truth

**A week earlier…**

"Dude, this sucks!"

"It was the only way to get into the office Dean." Sam turned his head away from Dean to hide his chuckling.

Dean shifted in the large leather chair, which was quickly followed by a phbbtt sound. Turning to see Sam's smile swallow most of his face, Dean grunted in annoyance and rolled his eyes. The sight of Dean's face caused Sam to outright chuckle.

Tapping his foot upon the plush carpet, Dean busied himself and ignored Sam's chuckle by looking at the numerous diplomas on the wall.

"If this chic is so good, why in the world does she need that many pieces of paper to prove it Sam?"

"Because a psychiatrist doesn't get to be a psychiatrist by sending away box tops."

"Whatever Dude, this touchy feely crap is your thing, not mine. I swear if you go all Steel Magnolias on me, I'll kick your ASS!"

Sam's eyes twinkled with glee as Dean's agitation and unease increased with each passing moment. "This was the only way we could get Karen's information. You should learn to relax."

"You should learn to shut up." Dean gritted and snarled.

"I could go to the other side of the hospital for some Prozac, Valium…Viagra.

Dean shot Sam an annoyed glance. "Don't use me as an excuse for your Viag.."

Luckily, Dr. Benton arrived before the banter could escalate further. "Shall we?" she offered as she escorted them to her office. Sam eased himself on the large sofa in front her desk as Dean plopped down in disgust over this whole idea.

"Sam and Dean Manners, I'm Dr. Benton."

"Yeah...we got that from your...uh..wall thingy, you know, out there...umh," Dean stopped as Dr. Benton's stare passed over him with an overtone acknowledging how stupid he had just sounded. "Yeah...awkward."

"It's okay..uhh??" Dr. Benton stressed as she waited for Dean to provide her with a name.

"Dean."

"Ah.. Dean, a lot of patients find therapy uncomfortable. There's no shame in admitting you have problems. That's why we have family therapy."

"Listen lady, I'm not the one with a problem!" Dean wiggled uncomfortably in his seat and crossed his legs and arms in defiance.

"Your posture tells me you have closed yourself off from this experience. Dean, I think we have some real issues to discuss."

"Not me.. Junior Goody-two-shoes over there has the problems." Dean overplayed his head movement using it to direct and point to Sam.

Sam tried to repress laughter, but displayed concern when Dr. Benton looked his way. "Dean, you're my brother and I love you. I just want us to feel better about where we are." Sam overplayed the sappy sweetness so much his voice had raised another octave.

"That was very nice, Sam. Now Dean, tell Sam how that you love him." Sam reached out and touched Dean's hand.

Jumping as if this rear was actually on fire, Dean sprang from the leather chair. Sam turned his head and perched his lips to muzzle a belly laugh. Dr. Benton's attention was upon Dean, so she failed to notice how much amusement Sam was having at Dean's expense.

"Oh, don't even tell me you bought that crap!!!!!!??" Dean looked at her incredulously. "Ahhh.. Whatever... I... I gotta pee." With that, Dean bolted out the door, slamming it behind him.

Dr. Benton focused on Sam apologetically. "I'm sorry Sam, but I'm sure in time Dean will open up."

"He has been having a real hard time lately since our father passed. Its been a rough couple of years for our family. He is more concerned to sav..to help me than his own well being. I worry about him." Even though Sam overplayed it tad too touchy, he actually meant those words more than anything. Quickly returning to his ruse, "I think he is not comfortable talking with me here. Could you go get him and see if you can get him to open up?"

Dr. Benton smiled lovingly. "Of course. Just relax for a bit and I'm sure this will turn out to be a great session for you both." Crossing to the door, she stopped one moment more to smile and nod to Sam to reassure him.

Waiting until the doctor's echoing footsteps could be no longer heard, Sam busted out a full belly laugh. The thought of Dean being pursued by a psychiatrist was more than he could take. Pulling the lock pick from his jacket, he was still amusing himself with images of Dean as he twisted into the narrow keyhole. Within seconds, the locked clicked open to reveal the files. Grabbing the file quickly, Sam sprang back to his chair in time to hear Dr. Benton corral Dean back to the office.

"I told you, I'm done! Now back the hell off!" Dean yelled.

"Dean, if you don't deal with these issues, they will affect.." Dr. Benton stated calmly.

Opening the door, Dean screeched at Sam "Dude, if you're not in the car in 15 seconds, I am leaving your ass!" Abruptly Dean turned and fled towards the safety of his Impala.

"Sam, I'm sorry." Dr. Benton looked at Sam empathetically.

"It's okay" Sam reassured her as he got up from the chair. He shook her hand to thank her. "I'll keep trying and call to set up more appointments. Together we can help him." Sam displayed the largest puppy dog eyes he had ever displayed in his existence.

Dr. Benton nodded in kind-hearted agreement. "See you soon, Sam," She stated as he stepped through the door. As soon as the door closed, Sam's head lurched down and a squished snicker pressed from his closed lips.

-x-xx-x-xx-x-x-x-xx-x-x-x-xx-x

Dean leaned against the Impala's hood waiting for his brother to haul ass to the car. He found himself thinking of ways he would pay Sammy back in spades for that little charade. He told Sam to distract her by having a coughing fit or something. As soon as Sam exited the building, Dean could tell by Sammy's strut he was quite pleased with himself.

"You cocky little ba..."

"Hey, you asked me to create a diversion. I think it went well." Sam had stumbled into a guffaw of laughter by this point.

Drawing back his hand, Dean smacked Sam twice on back of the head. "That's for the Steel Magnolia moment and sending that touch feely psycho witch after me. Now, hand over the file."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-xx--x---

Snapping back to the present, Sam panged to relive that moment again. He feared there would be no more like it. Sometimes, Sam felt moments like those, the catty good humored bickering ones, was the only bit of normalcy in his life. It was those moments that kept him going when he was confronted by the misery of his family and the countless others who had been touched by evil. It was sad to think irritating your brother could be considered as something right and good with the world, but to Sam it was. It was the way they could show they truly understood each other to the core- knowing which buttons to push. Instinctively, Sam glanced at Dean, who should have been asleep by now. Sam instead found Dean's eyes were open with no signs that sleep was ever going to visit him at all.

"Dean? Can't sleep, huh?"

Dean merely nodded. The truth was he couldn't sleep. No matter how tired he was, no matter how much his body ached, no matter how much every fiber of his mind and being cried out for it, sleep escaped him. Dean had quickly realized the ability to sleep had been stolen from him. He didn't have the heart to tell Sam. He was already freaked enough, Dean told himself.

"I guess, we've both got too much on our minds." Sam kicked back the chair as he made his aching shoulders stretch. Staggering sleepily towards Dean to his own bedside, Sam plopped on the floor resting his back and head on the mattress side. Oddly, Sam found the hard surface comfortable as sleep was calling him, but he willingly fended it off in honor of Dean. "I was looking at the info we had on Karen again. According to Dr. Benton's files, she was attack at the J&J night club. She and her friend reported meeting a man, which later attacked Karen."

"Sam." Dean said calmly. "I know this. The man dusted her with something, she freaked, the friend called 911, they took her to the ER-where they found nothing, by the way, she came to and they sent her home. Becoming increasingly agitated as he progressed in his platitude "Later, she went bonkers, stabbed her friend in the back-REPEATEDLY, and was sent to the boobiehatch- where she swore the Sandman made her do it, before she stuck her finger in a light socket to off herself." The look of shock on Sam's face stopped Dean's anger and frustration cold. He took a breath and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to take.."

"It's okay." Sam said acceptingly. "I know..." Sam muttered as he tried to desperately stifle a yawn.

A quiet snicker came from Dean. "Sam, go to sleep."

In a groggy slur, Sam refused to abandon his post, "No, I'm good."

"Fine, but I'm going to bed." Dean forced his eyes to close and consciously controlled his breathing into deep easy breaths.

Sam looked happily at the slumbering Dean; unaware Dean was faking the entire thing. He closed his own eyes and was pulled instantly into a deep slumber.

Dean cracked his eyes to the slimmest possible opening. Taking some small sense of comfort from spying the soundly sleeping Sam, he opened his eyes fully. He didn't have the heart to tell Sam that he wanted to sleep, but the Sandman had taken away that capability.

He stared at the ceiling fan above him. The hypnotic rhythm doing little for him. He closed his eyes to quite the dry pain that screamed at his pupils.

"Dean?"

His eyes opened finding Sammy above him. "Dean, why didn't you tell me! " Anger flashed in a rolling blackness in Sam's eyes. "I would have died for you, but you lied to me all this time! All our problems are you fault!"

"Sammy, I don't kn…."

Sam's head shook in disgust. "Don't LIE TO ME! You let me die, then you try to make amends by…you killed them! Everyone I ever loved is dead because of you! And you never would have told me, but this Sandman crap has made you weak. You've slipped up. I hate you! I HATE YOU!"

"Sammy, Please"

"I wish you were already DEAD!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-xx-x-x


	6. Know the Truths

"Sammy… no…I don't understand!"

"You let me die. You are supposed to protect me- Just like you could have protected Mom and Dad. But you couldn't do it. You're too weak! You let Mom and Dad die for YOU!"

"Shut up," Dean muttered. "No, Sam… Sam would understand."

"Dean!"

"No, Sam doesn't hate me. Sam's my brother. He would understand how I feel about Mom. He would never say he hates me…Never…" Dean's voice was calm and he pushed away from the hallucination.

When he opened his eyes, the Sandman's image had replaced Sam's

"You're a fighter, Dean. I am going to have lots of fun with you. I think I like the slow and easy approach with you. You will become the monster you know you are. I know the truths you had behind your delusion of grandeur. Pathetic."

"Get out of my head"

"By the time this is over you will be begging for death!"

"Shut UP!" Dean screamed. His eyes closed and his fist pumped in rage. He lunged for the Sandman, only to find emptiness.

He spun around the room to scan for his tormentor, but found only a stirring Sam. With a deep sigh, Sam returned to deep sleep. "Okay, Dean… get your act together…. Can let Sammy see this…" His hands palmed over his fatigue drained eyes. He slowed his breathing. "You can beat this. "

Hopping back to his bed, Dean thought he would at least try to sleep. He had defended the Sandman away twice, so there was hope that he could beat the odds again. He closed his eyes, enticing sleep to take him.

-x-x-x-xx-x-x-x-xx-x-x

Whirling down the nearby highway, a big rig passed by the out-of-the way motel as a mangy stray dog dared to cross in the rig's barreling path. The ear piercing horn reverberated through Sam and Dean's motel room wall causing Sam to abruptly awaken.

Sam looked around nervously, half thinking Dean was in peril. The initial shock from waking out of a deep sleep soon passed, when he noticed Dean's bloodshot eyes looking at him.

"Man, you look like hell. How much did you sleep?"

Dean smiled imperceptibly at his brother. He had spent most of the morning thinking about Sam; thinking about all the things he needed to take care of before this all got worse; thinking about being on the precipice of ruination.

Somehow there weren't enough words in any language that seemed right. Sam was his brother, his partner, and his best friend. The thought of leaving Sam alone was foremost in his mind. He wondered what would happen to Sam once he was gone. That fear was the only reason Dean was fighting at all. Dean had spent most of his life feeling alone and to subject his brother to the same fardels was more that he could bear. But his decision, not matter if it came today or months from now had already been set in stone.

Dean suddenly realized he had been lost in his own thoughts and quiet too long. Sam had drawn closer to him without Dean noticing. He managed a half smirk laced with an amused sigh, but both acts were disingenuous.

"Oh...sorry, Sam. I just kinda drifted there for a second. I didn't sleep much."

Cracking his neck and smacking his dry mouth once, Sam readjusted his body from sleeping in such an odd position. A benevolence amalgamated with bitterness etched Sam's every facial feature. He desperately wanted to ask Dean a million things, but Dean looked so completely languorous. He quickly thought of the third thing Dean like best, mainly because his own stomach growled intensely. Sam realized their last meal had been twelve hours ago.

"Uhh…so….do you feel like some grub. I'm starving. I'm gonna grab us some coffee and something hot and not junk food-FOR A CHANGE."

Dean didn't feel like defending his favoring items often labeled as a food product with artificial colors and artificial flavors. Plus, Sam hovering was doing very little for Sam's psyche "Sounds good Sam."

Dean pushed himself to sit upright upon the bottom of the bed as Sam shoved some cash in the front of his jean pocket.

Grabbing a pair of jeans from his own duffel, Dean forced himself to put them on. A strange lethargic energy had invaded Dean that only seemed to ebb when he focused on not burdening Sam. Standing to button his jeans, Dean realized Sam stood fixed and staring at him.

"Sam, I'm not gonna break by getting dressed and its kinda weirdin me out…uhh.. with you doing that. I'm okay, Sam...Really."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, sorry! I..uh...I'm gonna.."

Dean's hearing faded and soon Sam's moving lips spouted no words.

"Sam," Dean uttered.

Sam stopped talking and looked bewildered by his brother's expression. Dean's eyes flashed horror at the creature slithering towards Sam.

Sam stood unmoving unaware of the large cobra that was slithering towards his bare feet. Hissing loudly, the onyx hood fanned open as it plunged it overlarge fangs into Sam's ankle.

"Sammy!" Dean screeched. Sam stood perplexed as to why Dean was screaming his name. Unfortunately, Sam realized too late that Dean was lost in another Sandman hallucination, when Dean sprang to action and knocked Sam to the ground.

"Dean, Dean, snap out of it get off of me."

Dean couldn't hear his brother's plea. He could only focus on the snake's fangs that were still imbedded into Sam's skin, pumping him full of its deadly poison. Dean grasped the beast with both hands, straining to pull the beast loose, but the bond between Sam's flesh and the slippery snake was unbreakable.

Sam continued yelling, but figured the best course was to pin Dean until the delusion was over. Using on the partial strength available to him, Sam pushed Dean away.

The puzzled Sam scrambled to regain his footing as Dean fell back against his bed. Dean's hand thudded on a handle under his pillow. With lighting fast reflexes, Dean grabbed the knife, pulled it from its sheath, and brandished the weapon in his hand. Sprinting with mad fury to help his brother, Dean was ready to kill the cobra by any means necessary. Dean knocked Sammy back to the ground once more.

"Damn it, Dean! Stop!"

Don't worry Sam. I'm gonna take care of you." Sam pushed Dean back more harshly. Dean's side crashed to the floor. Landing upon his shoulder, his body omitted a large pop. His arm hung oddly.

Sam gasped as he knew he had hurt Dean, but the dislocated shoulder did little to stop the next charge. Sam had little time to react.

He pumped both of his legs into Dean's abdomen to block the momentum of Dean's run. Dean stumbled back, but twisted sharply. Raising the knife in a wide arc, Dean plunged the knife in a forceful death blow.

"Dean! NO! Stop!"


	7. I Know You Better Than That

The power of Dean's blow cracked down like a raging thunder. The knife embedding into the fictional snake's skin, leaving the beast cleaved in two. Splintering filtered up as, in reality, the knife plunged into the wooden floor beside Sam's flaying legs.

The tail of the snake slivered on and the head refused to yield its grip on Sam. The snakes fangs gouged deeply in Sam's ankle in a vice grip. Grasping at the hallucination and pulling until his shoulder felt as if it would fall from his body, Dean rabidly tried to remove the beast in desperation.

"Dean! Snap out of it…Please!"

But his plea was useless, Dean had resorted back to free the knife. Just as frantically as he pulled at the imaginary danger in his mind, he now tried free the blade for another stroke. His mind hell-bent on saving his brother/

Sam hated to do it, but he used the distraction of Dean's rearming to deliver a smack to his brother's jaw. The pain registered, but Dean refused to give up his quest to free the blade.

"Sam, I have to get the poison out of you. Just hang on!" Dean was so lost in the hallucination; he didn't even question why Sam was fighting to prevent him from helping.

"DAMN IT, DEAN!" An angered concern swept away with Sam's vehemence to protect himself and his brother. He grabbed Dean's shoulders and shook harshly. White hot agony seared in Dean's shoulder socket.

"Aghhhh…uhh." The pain moved through Dean taking his grip away. Sam pressed harder upon the injury and Dean collapsed in pain within Sam's grasp. A drum pumping of pain raced over him. Falling to the floor, Sam's hold was ironclad pressure upon Dean's dislocated shoulder.

Sam did not release control over Dean, refusing to let go of the injured arm. Dean's breathing had turned to gasps of pain and his body writhed in agony.

"Arhhhhh……uhhhh…" Dean spasmed out between breaths.

Sam help on until a subdued whimper snapped came forth from Dean. Sam found himself gasping at the sound. His face washed over with guilt and concern. Twisting and pulling his brother's arm, he waited for the for the bone to snap back into the socket. Dean thrashed in pain, but the vision was gone. Sam gently lowered his brother's arm.

Repulsion took up residence in Sam's stomach. He hated that he had used Dean's injury to stop him, but fear of Dean hurting himself drove him to that desperate act. It reminded him of time he had been possessed by Meg, when she used Dean's injury to her advantage. It made him feel disgusted and repulsed by his similar act. He was aghast that he had gone that far.

"Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you like that. I would never…." Sam's voice crumbled.

Dean still lay on the floor, but the pain's intensity had faded slightly. Thorough gritted teeth, Dean reassured Sam, "Its okay Sam. I...know……uhhhgh…. You didn't do it to hurt me." Dean's face reflected the repugnance he felt for himself. His face contorted with actual pain, guilt, and melancholy. He forced himself to speak through gasps of pain and an attempt to hold back tears. "I can't believe I let him back in my head, Sam. I...I'm not sure if I have kept him out or if the Sandman has been toying with me by not attacking for a little while- uhhhhuh…uhhh.. Giving me a false sense of security... or.. I don't know."

Dean attempted to roll himself upright but the momentum of the fight took most of his energy from him. He wobbled unable to stand. Before he could make another attempt, Sam was at his side.

He had carefully grasped Dean's good arm. His posture provided solace to Dean as he helped him sit on the bed's edge. "Dean, tell me what's happening with you. I want to help. Describe the visions...ANYTHING...Maybe there's a pattern...I"

"I will, Sam...but", Dean said to stop Sam's inquisition. The pounding in his head was so furious and the Sandman's laughter was ever present, he couldn't take any more for the moment. Quickly changing the subject and fictitiously passing off that he had returned to normal, Dean sad in a controlled manner "... I could really use that food more than anything."

"I can't leave you now." Sam demanded. Dean was changing the subject again and shutting him out.

"Sammy... I'm safe for the moment." Dean said unconvincingly as he rubbed his head partly for pain and partly out of a stress reflex.

"Don't shut me out. I know this is hard. I can see it in your eyes Dean. You're a horrible liar." Sam's eyes were sorrow wide with concern. He couldn't risk hurting Dean again to stop these visions.

"Hustled a lot of people to be such a bad liar." Dean relied on his "Mr. Change the Subject" mode to save him once again.

"And changing the subject won't work with me either. Don't you think I know you better than that, Dean?" Sam's softness of voice compelled to share Dean's burden.

Dean attempted a smile for Sam's benefit. "Sam….I will… I promise, but please. I just need time to think. Between last night, this morning, and this afternoon…..I just….Hell, I don't know if I can explain it. Sam… I… know your scared that I…might leave you sooner than planned, but…I don't know what to do…I… please…just give me a moment. It already getting late in the day and neither of us eaten or slept well….."

"Have you slept at all?" Sam stared Dean down. Dean's lips puckered in refusal to answer. "Dean, I'm not stupid. I can see how tired you are. You're worn out and I know you're scared of something. You can't hide your feelings from me."

An appreciative loving half smile, light part of the paleness on Dean's face. "Guess, you know me better than I thought."

"Sometimes… Other times…not so much." Sam joked.

Dean's voice was soft and open. "I promise, when you get us some grub….we'll talk. I haven't slept…I don't think I can…" Dean saw a fear flash briefly upon Sam's face and quickly changed his tone. "So you'll have to get use to my ass being grumpy.

Sam chuckled lightly "Like that is anything new. "

"Go… get us some grub…I promise we'll have the "terms of endearment" moment later." Dean chuckled.

Sam, taking pity on Dean, agreed to run the quick errand. "Alright, but I get the extended version and not he crib notes. Then, we should pay a visit to Dr. Benton. She might be able to help us. " He grabbed his jacket, went to the door, and then turned back to Dean with penetrating eyes. Dean nodded, smiled softly, and waved at Sam. It seemed to appease Sam for the moment, but Dean heard Sammy jogging quickly. It wouldn't be long before Sam returned.

Dean swung the computer screen open and began to search for a place- any place- that would keep him from hurting anyone else, especially Sam. He needed a place that he couldn't get out of once he got in it. He knew of only one place and was surprised to find one a day's drive a way.

He dumped all his possessions out of his duffel and quickly packed what sparse junk food and drinks they had in the room. Not that he felt like eating, but years of training were hard to break. He tossed his cell phone in his clothes pile before he instinctively grabbed the Impala's keys. Glancing down at them, his eyes welled. "Sammy..." Dean said aloud. "I'm sorry, but I can't put you through this."

Dean quickly wrote a note and folded the Impala's keys into it. He scrawled Sammy across the front with a heavy heart that tempted to break whatever reserve of calm Dean had left. Shutting down the computer, Dean closed the lid and left the note on top. Slinging the duffel over his shoulder, Dean grasped the motel door. He closed his eyes for a second, and the words "Goodbye Sammy!" spilled out.


	8. Abombination

"Now, Dean!" A rancorous voice echoed in Dean's head, "Is that very nice." A twirling cloud of dust merged to form the Sandman in the landscape of Dean's mind. "Leaving Sammy like that. Not very brotherly."

Dean cursed himself for believing the villain would leave him alone long enough to protect Sam. "I'm just playing your game on my terms. I won't let you hurt Sammy and if you call him Sammy again, I'll make sure you die slowly," he said with unrealistic rebelliousness.

"Dean, you were the one attacking, Sammy," The Sandman's image made flesh in the middle of the room. He bent down to toy with the knife still in its sticking spot in the floor.

Dean remained cemented to his ground and convictions. The word Sammy created a snarled smirk. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Continuing with his grandstanding, the Sandman relished in punishing Dean. "I'm surprised that you have kept control for this long. You're a difficult nut to crack," The sarcasm dripped from each word. "Every time you break, every time you linger in fear, I grow stronger. You think that brave face fools me? I'm actually enjoying the front you are trying to maintain-makes my enjoyment so much sweeter." A sinister chuckle squashed out as he stretched himself back upright to meet Dean's gaze.

"I'm not you're puppet. You aren't going to fool me anymore." Dean screwed his courage to his soul.

The Sandman shook his head and he smacked a "tsk" from his lips. A Cheshire cat grin appeared on his face. Dean lunged at the image only to have it fade away.

"Dean, baby… come to me.." A sweet familiar voice called to him.

His eyes responded with a longing to the voice. He wanted to look away from the newest image- the image of his mother. "Mom?... No, she's not real! I won't let you fool me!" The Sandman's magic sent prickly shards of numbness over Dean. "NO"

"Dean, it's me. I came to help you- to protect you. Don't you recognize me?" Mary gently crept towards Dean. Her blond hair swept over one side of her face and her warm eyes called to Dean. "Baby, please. I love you…"

Dean's lip quivered as he shut his eyes to the mother before him. His face flashed a false façade to hide the false feeling in his soul. He molded in an uncaring stance while inside his heart was dying.

"I know you are hurting baby. I just want to take care of the pain." A gentle soft hand cupped his stubble rough chin.

"No." As Dean resisted as the pain in his muscles increased to unbearable degrees. His mind filled with the laughter of the Sandman. Dean forced himself to remain unflinching, holding on to the incident with Sam as an anchor. "No."

"Dean," the unison of his mother's voice and the Sandman uprooted his resolve with each passing moment. The fatigue making his mind and body weaker, he bobbled upon belief that his mother had returned to save him.

"Go away! You're not here." His face locked granite, but the touch of the delicate fingers upon his face cracked flinches of pain and sorrow. "I'm alone. You're not here…you're not….here." Dean desperately wanted to look at his mother's face."

"Dean, you are never alone… I am always with you. Please baby. I know the secret you hold. I know why you hate yourself and I want to make it go away." Another motherly hand tugged at his shoulder.

The duffel fell from his grasp as he fought to hold back the guilt and sorrow in his soul. The comfort of his mother felt warm and wonderful.

Mary pulled him close and embraced him. He wanted to get lost in this moment of comfort and safety- of his mother protecting him again. A memory of what he had allowed to die the night their lives were turned inside out, upside down, and mangled beyond any nightmare he could imagine. His arms locked around her and his faced washed in sorrow. A childlike crackle flavored his speech.

"Mom.. I'm sorry. I could have saved you…..I could have……."

"Shhhh…..shhhu….hush baby….shhh….It's okay…..I got you…just rest."

Dean leaned into her accepting her faux warmth. His hand grasped her golden hair and pulled her close enough become a second skin.

The Sandman's voice ringing out his name, pulling him, but he anchored to his mother, the only person who could make him feel safe again. "Dean….do you remember how much she loved you?"

"Shut Up!!!.. Mom… I…..I'm sorry…I love you!" His arms clenched upon her, willing her to make him whole again.

"Its okay baby..it will all be over soon. I'm here.."

The joyful chuckles pried at his mind. "Do you even care what you've done to her- to everyone. You have much to make amends for."

"Shut up. Dean's leaned against his mother's shoulder as if he could block out the voice inside him. His face found a slimy slickness upon his refuge. The sensation forced his eyes to open. A horrified gasp pushed out his mouth and his body instinctively repulsed away.

A charred bleeding and oozing image of his mother reached out to him. Her face was burnt with blackness and fleck of the red melted flesh and blood seeped out from every portion of her exposed skin. "Dean, baby come to me… I need you. I forgive you. Please come to me."

"You could have spared her Dean. All it took was one word. But you were too afraid, too selfish to fight. You failed your family. Her blood is on your hands.

Glancing down, traces of the bloody mess that was Mary had been left upon his clothes, his hands and face. Disgusted he wiped his hands upon his already stained shirt, but the stains remained. His stomach forced a dry heave in his throat in reaction to the spots upon his hands.

"Who would have thought there could be so much blood? All that heat crackling at her flesh."

"SHUT UP!" Guilt and anger toe-top filled Dean. He swallowed another dry heave harshly.

Mary stalked closer to her son. "Dean, please!" Bits of her flesh fell way and plopped upon the floor, revealing the open pus and bubbled red skin below.

Dean split his focus upon his frame already marked by his mother's blood and the burnt image of his mother. Trying desperately to hold back a flood of whirling emotions, his face contorted and his breathing came in burst. Steadily, he back away until his back rested uneasily upon the motel's door. With not more room to escape, Mary's arms locked upon her son. His body wanted to climb the door in nauseated repulsion of the image before him and of his own disgrace.

"You're an abomination, Dean. You can't even face the abhorrent results of your weakness like a man." The Sandman's lips spread into a devious satisfied smirk.


	9. Let Me In

**Note: Sorry, it has been so long since I updated. I've had some family stuff to deal with, but at least it is perfect for relaying brotherly angst. As always, thats for reading! I appreciate it more than I could ever express in words. I hope to be able to update often now and also read the creativeness of our Supernatural fans on fanfiction. Hope you enjoy- cause the ride just gets worse and worse.   
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Dean closed his eyes, trying to force the image of his mother away from him. No matter how he hard he tried, the image of his mother's putrescent scorched form lingered. Pressing his body so tightly upon the door as if he could merge into the wood grain, Dean opened his eyes to see his reflection in his mothers pleading hollow eyes.

Turning his head away, he swallowed hard upon the gag reflex. The smell of his mother's rancid burnt flesh and his guilt filling him with self-loathing. The Sandman's dust toxin pulsated in his overloading system. The combination threatened to swallow any idea of self worthy Dean had. He squeezed his eyes tight, trying to block out this moment forever.

Just when he thought he was about to break, the door behind him pushed inwardly. Jarring forward, Dean stumbled a few steps before he toppled to the floor, instantaneously, the figure in the open door dropped the packages that he was carrying and hastened to his brother's side.

Sam's stifled a gasp of his reaction to his brother's jittering form held in aghast. He helped roll Dean flat on his back.

His brother's face appeared pallid, haunted, and morose.

Dean chocked down the need to hurl.

"Dean…….Dean, you okay? Please talk to me. I want to know… please."

Forcing himself to sit, Dean pushed his brother off of him. "I'm okay Sam. I was just cleaning up the room, when you startled me with the door. You should check before you wail a door open." Though his body ached and wanted to remain stationary, Dean forced his body to obey his command. Standing sluggishly, he waivered slightly and continued his pretense of cleaning up the room.

Sam didn't buy his brother's actions or his excuse. Dean was hiding things again, but Sam wasn't sure what. He desperately wanted to get inside Dean's head and knock some sense in him. But, his brother's appearance had degraded further in the short time that he had been shopping for food. That was the greater concern for Sam. Whatever the Sandman did to Dean, it was powerful. Perhaps more powerful than anything than they had ever faced. He didn't relish the idea of watching his brother going insane. That fear was heightened by the fact that Dean didn't want to seem to share this burden with him. But that was Dean for you, he always seem to carry more than his fair share of any burden, especially when it came to Sam or his family. The urge to smack some sense into Dean found itself recurring. "You know not everything needs to fall upon your shoulders, Dean. This is one time you need to let me in."

Dean hurriedly rushed to the note that he had scrawled for Sam. It would do no good now if Sam found out the plans he made before the Sandman's newest attack. Mindful that he might have to leave Sam behind as his mind quickly degraded into madness. He wasn't going to allow Sam to be a victim of his deranged mind. He quickly crumbled the paper into his jean pocket before Sam could notice.

"Dean….the silent treatment is old!"

Turning to face Sam, he could see that there were many unanswered questions Sam longed to ask him. But how could he tell Sammy all the things that crossed his nightmares. So he decided for the moment, subterfuge was the best possible defense. "Hey, Sam what did you get? I hope you brought us some good grub, because I'm starved."

"Dean," Sam's voice was soft and pleading. "I know you weren't cleaning. I can see the hell you're going through. I'm here. I know you think you're trying to spare me some pain or trying to reserve some of the cool you try to exude, but this is hardly the time."

"I know that, Sammy." What Sam had said was partly true, but the bigger portion was his own disgrace. Dean didn't want to cause his brother anymore pain. Sam had enough of that over the past years. "Sam, we could spend all day talking about what I've seen or what's happening to me. But in the end, it doesn't even matter. It's like I have no control over me and I'm trapped in some nightmare inside my mind. Acting out the things I see, but you don't. What does it matter, if I see a werewolf or anyone…. I don't want the next hallucination to hurt you. It's like I have no control over this…. and I….I just need us to focus on what we can do to fix this, okay."

Sam sprang to his brother's side once more and rested a reassuring hand upon Dean's shoulder. Sam waiting for Dean to pull away, but he stood rooted. "Dean, I'll find a way to shut the Sandman out. I know you think you can handle anything, but you don't have to. You're my brother! We have to stick together."

Dean couldn't help but chuckle. "I know, Sammy. And I think it's time we get started."

It was a half lie. If the need to help him by hunting kept Sam busy, that was enough for Dean. He tapped Sam's hand before he crossed away from him. His answer seemed to satisfy Sam for the moment as Sammy turned to make his way to the bags he dropped earlier.

Kicking the door closed, Sam balanced the two bags in his arms. He set the bags down, but his focused was still on Dean. Watching his brother leaf through a pile of clothes on the floor, Sam noted the fatigue and stress upon his brother was alarming and worrisome. "Dean, I got those powdered doughnuts you like." Sam sat the bags next to his computer.

"I thought you said you weren't getting junk food."

"Yeah, but I thought I would cut you some slack for once. Don't let it go to your ego." Sam waited for his teasing to register, but his brother merely turned to face him. Sucking in a small gasp of air, Sam's face flashed horror at his brother's blood shot eyes.

"Sounds great, Sam."

Sam dug the sugary confections out of the bag and tossed them to his brother. The item grazed Dean's fingers and fell to the floor. It was then that Sam knew Dean was far worse than he had feared. His brother never missed.

Dean didn't acknowledge his inability to hold onto the item. He was unaware that Sam had been testing him. Dean scooted himself up on the edge of his bed and carefully opened the package.

Sam plopped behind his computer and his fingers reached for the stolen file from Dr. Benton's office. He was hoping to find something, praying for one small item that would lead to the end of his brother's pain. "What don't you eat, then try to take a long nap. I'm going to review this information and see if I can find us something new to work with."

Dean didn't argue. Slowly he eased himself upon the bed with his sacred snack. Propping his head upon the headboard, Dean watched Sam filter and spread out the multitude of papers in the medical file. Even thought his stomach pitched at Mach 2, he scarfed down 2 of the bite-size donuts in an attempt to settle the queasiness of his stomach. Plus, if Sam found out he was not eating, he knew it would worry him. Dropping the remainder of the package upon the floor, Dean scooted himself further down into the bed. If he could just close his eyes, perhaps he could at least ease his screaming eyes and body. Every fiber of his being screamed out to him for sleep. "Sounds great, Sam. I'm just gonna try to get some sleep before we head out."

With that, Dean closed his eyes but remained unsleeping. For several minutes, he sank into the bed try to entice sleep to come to him. It was use to long hours, but with the drain upon his psyche, it seemed like he hadn't slept for weeks. The shuffle of papers was the only noise that filled the silence of the room except for the occasional sigh of frustration from Sam.

"Dean." A voice called to him. Groaning, he knew the source.

He cracked his eyelids to see if Sam was still staring at him, but found that Sam was pouring over the papers the same papers that they had countless times. He was then that Dean noticed the shadowy form behind Sam- the form of his perpetual tormentor, the Sandman. He bolted upright, calling out of his brother. "Sammy!"

Sam was immediately alert and prepared himself for his charging brother. Dean was already halfway to Sam's position when Sam grappled him and held him down upon the floor. "Dean no one is here! There is nothing to fear" Sam's voice is calm, but the force with which Dean fought him was alarming. Sam placed a full weight of his body upon his brother hoping it hold out until this vision was over or at least until he could reach Dean.

The panic in orbs of Dean's swollen red eye sockets darted in panic. "Sammy, don't let him get you… please."

Sam yelled loudly, "Dean!!!" Shaking his brother's frame, Sam had forgotten his brother's injured arm. The pain snapped Dean back to him.

The vision had disappeared and Dean grew quiet, but the voice still rang upon his ears. "I can take you anytime I want Dean, but what's the fun in that. I can get you anytime and don't you forget it." Dean sucked in a hard breath trying to calm himself before he spoke to Sam. He took several deep breaths before he began to speak." Sam. It's gone. I'm okay now."

"You're far from okay. We need to find out what triggers these visions." Sam released his hold and helped ease his brother to his feet. He waited for Dean to argue about Dr. Benton and refused to sheer idea that Dean didn't Dean faced Sam and merely nodded in agreement.

"Whatever you want Sam, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault Dean! You've got nothing to be sorry for."

"I wish that was true, Sammy. I really do.. with all the terrors I've seen on the road. I've seen too many things. Now, they are all coming back to haunt me. What if you caught in the crossfire?!?" Dean lied. Sure vermin, demons, and creatures had given him some thrills, disgust, and fear over the years, but the greatest threat to Dean was closer to home. He didn't know where to begin. "Sam, you should he off living the good life. Instead of…"

"I'm where I belong, Dean. So you aren't forcing me to do anything that I want to do. SO, cut the guilt crap because we have faced things more tough than this."

Dean knew Sammy was wrong, but now wasn't the time to argue. "Thanks, Sammy. I'm just so tired…..I know you are right…. I think I need to get clear my head. I'll be soaking in the tub."

Knowing Dean wasn't the soak in the tub type, Sam allowed Dean the momentary escape to collect himself. It was odd for Dean to have to lean or anyone; much less accept the fact that he needed help. "Okay, but you still have a promise to keep. You promised to share and tomorrow morning, we are going to Dr. Benton's Office.

Dean spoke no more and shuffled off to the bathroom door. Closing it quietly behind him, Dean sank his fatigue plagued frame to the floor. Resting his head upon the door, he waited for the Sandman to take him again. This way Sam wouldn't have to see it this time. At least, he could keep that from happening again.

A voice emerged in his head. "Dean, do you think hiding yourself away will save you or Sam!"

Dean didn't speak, but tried to fight with whatever resolve he had left.

"By the end of this, you will die or Sammy will have to kill you. Either way your soul is mine. "

A renewed spark of snark hit Dean. "Get in line, there's a waiting list for my soul."

Again the laughter resounded from the Sandman. "Really!! But I have such wondrous and frightening sights to show you. The demons you hide are ready to eat you alive."

"Shut up!" Dean screamed. "SHUT UP!!!!" His eyes closed to the Sandman's image.

A pounding slammed upon the locked door. "Dean, Let me in! Are you okay!"

Dean opened his eyes to find the image gone yet again. Regrettable, he had let the Sandman goat him until he lost control again.

"DEAN!"

Delaying the inevitable confrontation of Sam's questions was futile. Dean was having a hard enough time fighting the Sandman. He no longer had enough energy to deflect Sam as well. He scooted himself out of the way and reposed himself on the far wall, hunching back against the coolness of the tile.

The door opened widely, as Sam's frame filled the open frame. Dean waited to look at him for a second, not wanting to see the concern on his brothers face. However, the sight of Sam's face set off more terrible tremors to Dean's core. His brother stood over him pointing a gun. Not that he blamed Sam. Dean knew he had become dangerous. He was proud Sam wasn't taking chances.

"Dean. It's all over. I told you I would find a way." The gun arched into an aim.

A whirl fearing, loving, and begging intertwined in his confused mind. "Sammy? What are you doing? I'm sorry...please, don't… " Dean recoiled in terror. He pushed his fearful trunk against the hard tile.

Sammy inched closer to Dean's fearful eyes. "I'm sorry, Dean," Sam struggled to say through lips pouted by sorrow. "I can't let you go on like this." Sam begged. The gun rang loudly in the small motel.


	10. Power of the Flask

**Author's note: This chapter disappeared website. Okay, that was weird. Does fanfiction have a haunting fo r Sam and Dean? No idea why it went the way of oblivion, but here it is again. Update coming soon.**

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Wood splinters shattered and rained down upon Dean and the porcelain tiles. Throwing his arm up to protect himself from the blast, Dean could feel the splinters bombard him. The bathroom door that Sam had broken through was in shambles and pieces. Fear clutched in his heart and almost crushed the organ to a stop. Gasping, the bullet drilled into his chest. A sharp burst of air sucked in his lungs from the strength of impact. Excruciating pain burrowed as the slug ate away at skin, muscle, and bone. The pain he felt knowing that Sam had pulled the trigger stung even worse.

"Dean!"

Sam's voice rang in his ears, the urgency of his tone arched Dean's spine. His body shook with tremors, as it entered into shock.

Grabbing his brother, Sam shook lightly. However, his voice rang stronger than falling Redwood Timbers. "Dean... Dean! Come back to me!" The raspy sound that filled Dean's lungs frightened Sam beyond abhorrent credence.

Dean's eyes bolted open. The unwelcome view of the gaping hole in his chest stole his breath. His hands attempted to press the wound together. It took Dean several seconds to recognize his brother had gripped his flaying arms. Dean scooted away in childlike terror. Racing away in panic, he was unsure where the line between reality and hallucination blurred. He scooted further back until his torso rested upon the corner of the bathtub and the ceramic wall. An infantine irrational terror gripped his entire being.

Sam instinctively reached for his brother, but the attempt only garnered recoil. His brother had never reacted in terror at the sight of him before. In that one moment, some part of Sam felt vanquished. He could not fathom what fear Dean held that related to him. He wondered what part of him caused such dread. Whatever wrong he had caused his brother, Sam vowed would fix it. He wouldn't rest until things were right between them.

When Sam reached out a second time, he found the same response. Sam wasn't sure if Dean was quite with him yet. His voice filled with a sorrowful ache of wanting to help his brother, wanting to solve the rift of fear between them, and wanting to bring his brother back. "Dean... Please……it's Sam... Come back... Please, Dean." Flopping upon the ceramic tile, Sam slid back upon the sink base. Sam was prepared to spend all night to get his brother back.

Wild darting eyes shifted focus frenziedly in an attempt to protect himself. Dean grasped at his chest as if he could will the cavernous wound to close, but it was gone. The worlds of Dean Winchester had become so blurred. He no longer knew if he could trust anything. He no longer knew if he could trust the only person he trusted in this world-Sam.

Gentle soothing words trickled from Sam's mouth, forcing an exuded calm and hoping that Dean would use them as an anchor. "Dean... I'm here... just... let me help you." Sam shifted several inches closer to Dean, but his moves were slow and methodical. He raised his hands with open palms towards Dean. A coaxing sweetness permeated in Sam's voice and mannerisms "Dean." Rising to his knees, Sam drew closer. He stared in incredulity at Dean's undulating and wasting form. The bleakness of Dean's face had slipped further into a cadaverous tone.

The sight of Sam's face set off more terrible tremors to Dean's core. A whirl fearing, loving, and begging intertwined in his confused mind. "Sam, I'm sorry...please, don't .. please" Dean whispered.

Sammy inched closer to Dean's fearful eyes. "I'm sorry, Dean," Sam struggled to say through lips pouted by sorrow. "I can't let you go on like this. Please, let me help you. Just breathe. Please." Sam begged.

"Sammy… I'm sorry… I should never…" Dean's broken voice rasped harder. "I'm.."

"Shhhh…its okay… Whatever it is, we'll fix it" Sam's frame sneaked closer. Sam was close enough to touch Dean, but his moves were gentle and slow. Finally, he reached out with one hand and gently nudged upon Dean's arm.

"Sammy?... What…. Please..."

"It's over.. Don't worry about it…….Can you stand?"

"Maybe."

Sam supported him brother's good arm over his back and eased him up, whether Dean needed help or not. He was surprised to find that his brother still had the strength to get back up. At least, the Sandman had stolen his brother's strength, yet. Guiding his brother to the motel bed, Sam still tried to reassure his brother. "It's over now……just take it easy…I got you." Dean's achromatic face was a void of fatigue, which sprang worry to life in Sam. "Just sit down and relax."

Relaxing was exactly what Dean wanted more than anything, but the Sandman had stolen more than sleep from him. He had absconded all Dean's fears and was twisting them in a sense of perverse pleasure. Dean scrambled up against the headboard, crawling into a fetal ball. He just wanted to forget everything that was happening. He sucked in air slowly and deeply trying work through a real or imagined pain.

Standing above his brother's frame, Sam watched over his brother. All Sam could focus on was comforting Dean for the moment. He hoped that his presence alone would somehow let him inside the mind of Dean Winchester.

Crumpling the pillow beneath his torso, Dean hugged it for comfort. The dryness of his mounts provoked a small fit of coughing. He knew he should say something to Sam, but he wasn't sure what to tell his awaiting brother. He wasn't sure there were words to explain what was happening, much less put his brother's mind at ease. Instead, Dean focused on breathing and letting the moment pass.

"You want something to drink?" Noticing the coughs had not subsided.

"Flask."

Sam was sure water would have been a better choice. Then again, he couldn't blame Dean for wanting to drink this away. Obediently, he found Dean's half-dried jacket and removed the flask. Hurriedly, he rushed back to his brother's side. Rooting himself on the bottom edge of Dean's bed, Sam handed over the container to his brother's awaiting hand.

Dean managed to scoot to a seated position and lean back. Swigging a huge gulp, he let the strange warm sensation pass over him. He took several long drawls upon the flask before he returned his attention to Sam. "I'm okay, Sammy. I'm sorry, I scared you."

"Scare me!?! I would say I was terrified!"

"I'm sorry... I.. Don't know..."

"It's okay. I know it's hard but, I want to..." Sam knew that if he pressed too hard Dean would shut up again. Cleverly, he devised a possibility to keep his brother talking. "We know from Dr. Benton's file… in the things she documented… what happened in Karen Brown's case. If we can compare the similarities and differences, it could lead us to a resolution or least a start." Sam awaited an argument from Dean, but none came. Glancing at his weary brother, Sam pled his case again. "Do you think you can do that? Or are you too tired?"

Dean nodded his head and Sam didn't wait for his brother to change his mind. Sprinting for the medical file, Sam returned just as swiftly to the end of the bed. "Okay... we know Karen Brown was attacked by the Sandman and symptoms occurred within a few minutes. When did you have your first vision?"

"Shower."

"That was a least several hours after you were infected. So your timelines don't match."

"He said I was stronger."

"He didn't realize how stubborn, you were," Sam didn't feel like joking, but he wanted to make this conversation as normal as possible for Dean. "According to the file, Karen became paranoid that all of her friends were out to get her. But according to Dr. Benton, she already had issues. Her coworkers described her as shallow and self-centered. Her only friend noted she already thought people were out to get her. She had hallucinations that her friend was trying to single white female her. So this Sandman only increased that fear. Is the Sandman playing upon your fears?"

"I don't know… they're all different."

"What do you mean?"

Taking several more swigs from his flask before he answered Sam, Dean prepared himself for the next onslaught of questions. "Honest Sam, I really don't know. It's like everything is jumbled and random."

"Are there any patterns to the attacks? Anything trigger them when you see a hallucination? Do you know sometimes that it's coming?"

"Sometimes…Yes… then…No. One second is reality and the next I am just seeing …something else….. I can't tell which is real and which is fake! No matter how I try to fight. Even when I think it is not real, I can't fight it… It forces me to react. I can't stop Sam... Why... why can't stop it?!"

Sam gulped when his brother's voice sounded like a plea. It was a strange unfamiliar sound. "We'll find a way. I promise."

Shaking his head, Dean felt the need to clear it with another shot of whiskey. The warmth of the whiskey dulled the racing and pounding in his mind and his breath return to some normalcy. "Sam, I want you to be careful around me….I can't tell…. I can't tell if it's you or something else. Promise me!"

"Back there he was using me to get to you?...I'm right?"

The sadness in Sam's eyes was as torturous as any Sandman invented vision. Dean realized the recent episode had affected Sam deeply. He had inadvertently hurt Sam in one of the worst possible way. While he still had some presence of mind, he could protect Sam from the mess in his mind. "He used my fear of losing you, Sammy. I didn't even know it was you in there... trying to get me back. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I want to know, whatever it is, we can fix it."

"I know you do, Sam." A wide yawn involuntarily sprang from Dean. He knew Sam was trying to help him, but weariness screamed at his body. He longed for quiet refuge.

"But, you were afraid?"

Dean managed a childlike head jiggle. "I…..I wasn't……I'm so tired, Sammy.

"I know you are." Sam glanced at his brother with the same innocence that he held in his youth.

Dean hated that look. It was the one that would make him crumble during their formative years. The look always seemed to get Sammy his way. "Sam, I'm okay..." slurring slightly, Dean tried to grasp comforting words in a slow moving mind.

"You're far from okay. You're afraid, Dean. I can see it."

Breathing a huge sigh, Dean gave in. "Yeah."

"Maybe if you face your fears, then he won't have anything to feed upon."

Dean didn't relish the idea of exploring his many demons, especially when some would cause Sammy pain. And he didn't relish the idea of seeing Dr. Benton again to work out whatever issues she perceived he had. "Maybe, Sammy. But it's like I'm his personal cat toy and he's just waiting to play. He's toying with me and I can't stop him." The idea of Dr. Benton and the Sandman in the same moment caused Dean to take a hefty gulp from his flask.

"Okay, so the only similarity between you and Karen is the Sandman. She lost it much quicker; you've fought for 34 hours now. We know she…. "

"She only last two days….We know she went freaking bonkers and kill…"

"Dean…don't?"

"Come on Sam, you know it. I'm dangerous" His voiced slipped out slowly and sloppily.

"You're not dangerous. Anyway, I held you down once and I can do it again. I owe you a few ass kickings from when we were kids. Neither one of us is going to get hurt." That was the best Dean Winchester gauntlet Sam could throw. He could always count on Dean's skill in fighting and his ego to accept the challenge. Silence lingered for a few moments and concern caused Sam to glance at his brother.

Dean's head bobbled and the grip on the flask weakened to the point of falling out of his hand. Sam snatched the silver item from his brother's grip. "I think you don't need any more of this either."

The lightweight emptiness of the flask surprised Sam. He realized Dean had drained the entire flask in a short time. Dean's eyes closed and his breathing had turned to a steady rhythm.

Sam continued his rundown of evidence. "The first victim died quicker. He walked in front of a bus within three hours." Sam flipped the cut out news article in his hands. The only evidence we have that Steve Tyler is related to Karen Brown is from the witnesses.

Jiggling his head in agreement, Dean slurred out. "Yeah…but it's proof enough for us." His head bobbled and his eyelids blinked heavily.

"The witnesses to the bus dive heard Tyler screaming Sandman." Sam waited for Dean to give him more, but Dean's eyes were wide with a drunken stupor.

Sam didn't believe it. Dean looked like he was ready to pass out. Fearful of touching him, Sam didn't want to surprise Dean again. "Okay, I think you need to lie down. Looks like you were wrong about the sleep thing." Dean's eyelids blinked and a sleep collapsed breath pushed out. Closing the file and dropping it to the floor, Sam stood. Finally, Sam gripped his brother's legs and pulled him slowly down to the full length of the bed. Dean's head slid down and as soon as it hit the mattress it lurched as if rejoicing for slumber. Sam didn't want to stir Dean if he had indeed slipped into sleep. "Dean?" Sam's voice was a hushed whisper. When Dean failed to respond, Sam inched closer. Quickly, he assessed Dean's pulse and found a steady rhythm. Placing his hand underneath his brother head, Sam guided his brother to the comfort of the pillow.

Whether fatigue or alcohol had caused Dean to pass out, Sam didn't want to know. "It's okay….just rest"

Dean's slip into drunken unconsciousness brought him a small reprieve to a place where he was safe from the Sandman and the rest of the world. Dean's body collapsed wholeheartedly for as long as it lasted.

Staring at his brother for several minutes, Sam refused to move. He didn't know if he was grateful or fearful that his brother was asleep. Dean was fast approaching Karen Brown's deadline. She lasted less than two days with professional help. She was committed for her protection and the Sandman still got to her. Retrieving, the file from the floor, Sam plopped behind his computer trying to push the idea of loosing Dean out of his mind. Thinking only that the Sandman didn't know what he took on when he attacked Dean. Dean was the strongest one in the family and he wasn't going to face the Sandman alone, not as long as Sam still had breath. He had work to do and a brother to save. It was going to be a long night of searching for Sam Winchester, but that was a least of the sacrifices he was willing to make for his brother. The Sandman had chosen the wrong family to mess around with. Now, Sam only wished he could convince Dean.

As he cracked the file open, a rupture of thunder arched outside. Glancing back to the bed, Sam spied Dean stir and shift to a new position. The boom hadn't disturbed his brother much. With relief, Sam glanced out the window and lost himself in the tempestuous view. Another stormy bleak night for the Winchester was preparing itself outside. The rhythmic splatter of ran splashed against the front window frame. Sam looked out upon the violent pour wishing he could wash away this mess as easily.

Cracking his back, Sam returned his attention to the file. Lightning burnished the pages brightly every few seconds. Reading for the minutia, Sam got lost in the file. More lightning flashes spilled upon him. Sam didn't mind the brightness and darkness mixing. It reminded him that nature still has some rule over this world and over the supernatural world. Another set of flashes invaded. Sam grew use to the metre of the hostile rain and the breakneck shutters of flashes. A thunder boom shook the sky with forte before another set lightened the room. A soft moan spilled out between the rumbles of thunder causing Sam to glance at Dean, still slumbering. More flashes of brilliance revealed the vacuous appearance of Dean's face. Taken aback that so much had already been take from his brother, Sam's face morphed into pleading sorrow. The next burst of light averted Sam's attention to something else-the projection of a shadow above Dean's bed. It was a silhouette that Sam knew too well-the overcast version of the Sandman.


	11. Blithe Spirit

Sam relaxed his body as if he hadn't noticed the looming form. Sam knew the Sandman was watching him-watching his brother. The same great patience that he had shown Dean earlier held on to his body language, when really all he could feel was contempt and the need to fight. The next sizzle of lightning flashed through the motel window projecting the sinister silhouette framed in the window panes. Cracking his back again as if he was warding off another fit of fatigue, Sam stood and forced his face to display concern and restlessness. He had already formulated his plan of attack. Hoping his ruse of the unsuspecting victim and hapless concerned brother were providing some element of surprise. Surprise against an enemy that can become intangible at the slightest whim would be the only advantage Sam had in this battle. He found himself longing for the easy partnership and reciprocal hunting responsibility that he shared with Dean. He didn't fear going into battle alone, but fighting without him seemed unnatural.

His brother's body lurched as a simpering groan drew from the depths of Dean. The Sandman was calling. Clenched shutters spasmed through Dean as if his entire body was pleading for an end to pain. Crossing over to his bed in the false attempt to assess and comfort Dean, Sam covered his scheme for battle under the guise of caring for his ailing brother. Sam gripped his weapon duffel as he pulled the blanket from his bed. His hands slid into the arsenal and palmed the two items with pickpocket slickness. Covering his intentions, Sam wrapped his brother the blanket from his bed.

Dean's closed eyes were already fluttering with signs of unrest. Anguish breaths sunk into his chest and panic already starting to pull him. Dean's status had progressed from the ease of sleep to a forlorn agony. Sam grimaced at his brother's pain "It's okay, Dean on the take care of this and take care of it now."

Utilizing the years of training his father had instilled, Sam observed without being noticed. Rubbing his face as if his natural frustration were staring to simmer, Sam scrutinized the overconfidence relish and delight upon the demented villain's face. It spurned into Sam's bone. The bastard's full focus clawing away into his brother's mind, the overconfidence of a battle already won painted upon the depraved deranged psychopath's face as he chiseling away Dean's soul.

"No….more!" squeezed from Dean's lips. Sam noted the words were not a plea, but an order. For Sam, it might as well have been a whimpering moan asking for his help. A plea he intended to fulfill.

Sprinting with light speed reflexes, Sam launched his plan to action. He gripped a silver box in his palm before his hand turned the door knob and the other grasped at the only source of fire he had available. Taking a play from the Dean Winchester playbook, Sam pointed the aerosol can before the door had fully swung open. He has also flicked the lighter before the Sandman had time to blink. Sparking the spray to a fountain of blaze flames towards his unaware target, Sam's attack had several moments to burn away at the Sandman flesh. Sam didn't question having the upper hand. The Sandman's eyes were locked in focus as if he was unconnected to his body and the damage Sam had righteously provided to it.

Finally howling in pain, the Sandman broke contact with Dean. It didn't take long for the Sandman to feel the attack of the youngest and determined Winchester. As if his full attention had returned in a blink, the brute whirled around to focus on Sam. "You'll pay for this!" The melted monstrosity screeched like a howler monkey. Sam's cascading flames pour steadily from the aerosol can. Just when Sam thought he might win, the creature before him turned intangible. Sam whirled around in a giant arc, waiting for the tormentor to crystallize. Feeling the weight of the can become lighter, Sam fretted that his only source of firepower was near the end and blindly wasting it on an unseen target was getting nowhere. He released the feed to his weapon and waited for his opponent to formalize. "Come on, you son of a bitch!" He whirled around ever alert that his guard could not falter. He wouldn't allow himself to fail Dean.

Aphotic eyes crystallized and watched as the youngest Winchester stood defense for the eldest. Forming on the landing of a billboard overlooking the highway and the small motel, the Sandman cursed the young man. A merging of flesh and embedded cloth from the heat of Sam's attack left a lasting and reminding mark upon the Sandman's side. Yards away from Sam's location, the Sandman could watch unseen and return to his own intentions. Sam's interference was something he hadn't planned to face. The strength of the brothers combined was a far more of a formidable partnership than he had expected. Strange how two mere mortals could contain such strength. "So close little one." The Sandman's lips curled in nefarious indignation. Sam's transgression would not soon be forgotten as fair play was alien to the Sandman. "I've had enough of you moppet."

Scrutinizing the still stalking Sam, the Sandman savored in returning pain to Sam. The anticipated attack, however, was closer and the Sandman tactics were far more sinister than Sam could ever fathom.

-x-x-x-xx-x-x-x-x-x-xx-x-x-x

Muscles tightened upon the rest bed of Dean. His body lurched him into his ballistic involuntary hallucinogenic world. Standing alone in the motel room that Sam and he had called home for days, his face turned from scorn and reproach for being pulled back into his living nightmare.

"You think tying one on will save you!" The blithe spirit gloating sounded within the empty room.

"Show yourself! If you want me so bad come get me. No more! " Dean had grown weary beyond words. He was ready to stop this never-ending spiral cycle if it meant the end of him.

"It's sad really. You have been my best opponent. You fought so hard, only to fail time and again. The pain and guilt you hide has been more fulfilling and satisfying than any other in my thousands of years."

Discovery sunk in his Dean as he realized this wasn't just a sick satisfying game, but the Sandman fed upon the misery of his victims. "You feed upon our misery, you bastard ..."

"Feed upon your life force until your very soul is mind." The Sandman's image materialized and stood rank-and-file with Dean. "I'm a part of you…until your soul gives into me and your soul has so much more power to give me!"

"If you wanted that tarnished thing you should have just asked."

"You aren't prepared to face me, Dean. You can't face yourself."

"I'm always ready to dance with a little bitch.!"

Circling around Dean, the Sandman jutted his face within inches of Dean's. The evil laughed a hot wet breath upon Dean's flesh. Dean's stood unmoving in an attempt to keep control of the part of him that was still within.

Lashing out with his massive hands, the Sandman ripped into Dean's injured shoulder. The javelin talon fingers plunged deeply and grazed against the bones in Dean's arm. A vision or not, that thing hurt.

Pushing Dean down to his knees, the creature loomed over him. His grip was unchanging and an endless agony.

"I'm not pla..playing.. AHHH! I won…I won't….uggghh."

The finger blades sank deeper in his skin. If they plummeted any further, Dean's bones would crack from the pressure. Dean groaned through a face constructed with pain. Clenching his teeth and racking in a spasm, Dean's face was pallid from strain. Finally, he was unable to stand the throbbing anymore, and he balled his fist in vehemence. Connecting with the beast's face, the creature's grip loosened.

Breaking free, Dean's arm hung limply at his side. Blood poured from his injury. Hallucination on not, his arm ached like a mother. He lunged towards the Sandman, but the beast threw him back as if he were dust in the wind. Regaining his footing, he swung his good arm madly to fend off the next attack. The blows were meaningless, as the Sandman pinned Dean to the motel floor. The evil hot breath steamed Dean's face. Gathering all the strength he could muster, Dean used both legs to push the creature back. The image landed harshly upon the motel door.

Dean stood ready for another attack, but the villain had recovered quickly. Bounty from the floor, the Sandman was already approaching before Dean's mind to think of his next offense. Anger pulsated through him at all the skills of the tactician in his folly straining fell to the wayside, unthinking and in an uncontrolled environment, Dean didn't wait to charge towards the door.

"No Dean! Dean!" Sam had just tuned in the motel door, when Dean bolted towards him. The charge was too fast and soon. Dean had pinned Sam arm's under his legs. Dean was quite please he had achieved the upper hand in attacking the Sandman.

Dean, with rapid gusto, used his good arm to slam a barrage of punches into Sam's confused face.

Sam struggled to free an arm-or anything- otherwise Dean would beat him to death in a short time. Sam wiggled slightly and his hand moved infinitesimally.

Dean continued his onslaught upon the pseudo Sandman-his brother's broken and bloody face. Anger pushed Dean's tired body to unthinkable aggression.

Still trying to shift himself to a defensible position, Sam begged, "Dean, please,"


	12. Goodbyes

Sam was becoming dizzy as the threat of unconsciousness loomed upon him. Once he faded out, it would be all over for them both. Dean would never forgive himself-NEVER. He tried to struggle, but that only yielded more fervor in his brother's punches. The pummel of his brother's enraged fist flew at him with ferocity and anger. Losing the ability to control his wrestle and fight back, Sam took the last effort he could to reach out to Dean. His voice grew weaker, but he had to reach out somehow. "Dean." There was no sound that could reach through Sandman induced hallucination. "Dean." Sam became more flaccid and his struggling began to wane. Sam's body had begun to surrender to the punishment.

Dean's energy spent, he waited for the bastard to move. The body below him merely rolled in a stupor like agony. He loosened his grip and loosening his hold upon his tormentor, the miscreant's arm flopped upon Dean's hand. Dean was about to repel from the creature that plagued him, when the floundering hand grasped and squeezed gently. Dean was taken aback and was ready to strike, when the beast uttered "Dean, please."

Shock of the hubristic being reacting to such gentleness sent foreboding down upon Dean's spine. The squeezing hand's flinched fingers tapped a meek rhythm to the top of Dean's hands. Dean's eyes closed his eyes, knowing the image before him was a projection and the reality was far worse. He didn't want to open them, afraid of what the truth would find. His face already showed the signs of penitence before he forced his eyes to open. The ensanguine image of Sam replaced the illusion.

Sam's face was bloody, but he had yet to lose consciousness. "Dean" Sam voice cracked and his mouth scrunched in agony. Sam's breath gasped and his mouth gapped. The gasps became a wheezing. A tremble now twinged in his voice. "No…. No, Dean…please." A tear surged down Sam's face.

"Sammy...uhhh" Dean gulped as he was unable to form words. Dean's lip shuttered as he gasped in a harsh breath of air. "Sammy..oh……oh…huh…..huh.. oh..God..."

Sam squeezed Dean's hand again: in recognition that he was hurt, but aware of Dean's presence.

"Sam... I'm sorry... I wanted to..." The words became thick in his throat. "I could have killed you… I almost killed…"

Dean rocked Sam up into his arms, half shaking and half crying. "Please, be okay, Sammy." A groan was the response Dean received. Sam flopped dizzily upon Dean's shoulder. "Don't worry, Sammy boy, I got ya...I'm gonna take care of you… I'm sorry….." Dean rolled Sam back to look upon his face. Shaking Sam lightly, he whispered "You're going to be okay, Sammy. I know what to do…I'm sorry I have to do this sooner than I hoped."

Knowing his initial instinct had been right, Dean confirmed is fear that he was dangerous. His lack of control was an ever increasing omen of destruction to anything he dared to love in this world. He quickly assessed Sam's injuries as he had been taught many times by this father. Sam looked horrid, but physically he would recover with a few days rest. Sam groaned slightly. With a jiggle of his head, Sam blacked out. Dean checked Sam's pulse again out of paranoia. Sam's pulse was steady, by Dean's was racing with disgust and fear. Sam would heal, but if he got in the way of Dean's next vision there would be no way for Sam to protect himself.

Scooping Sam uneasily off the floor, Dean half staggered Sammy to a bed. With extreme caution and care, Dean scooted Sam upon the mattress. Resting Sam's head on the fluffy pillow, Dean quickly swaggered his way to the bathroom. He retrieved towels, bandages, and a cold pack from their emergency first aid kit.

Returning, he looked down at the damage he had wrought. Sam could be dead right now. If he had continued five more minutes, he could have beaten his brother to death. With that thought, the sound of the Sandman's laughter filled the fearful void.

Dean pushed the laughter to the back of his mind. "No, you son of a bitch! You want me! Fine! But you can't have him…GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" The push was the strongest one Dean could muster, but it was enough. His mind quieted.

Taking the brief moment of quiet, Dean began to patch up the lacerations on his brother's face. Noticing that his blood stained hands were just as they were during the vision of his mother, Dean gulped. His silver ring smattered by staint- his brother's life blood. Another fit of laughter filled his head. "NO!!! No… I won't let you stop me… SHUT THE HELL…" His hands grasped his head as if the squeeze alone could prevent him from spiraling back to his living nightmare world. After several painstaking moments, his mind quieted again. The effort to prevent another episode was wearing his resolve down. Only the thought of an injured Sam keep him from sinking.

Cleaning Sam's wounds with Marine expertise, Dean started making Sammy promises. "I promise I'll never hurt you again Sam. If I had been stronger, you would be safe now. I promised to protect you, even if the danger is me. I…" Dean chocked on his words, but found the energy to place a cool ice packet upon Sam's face. A momentary smile appeared on Dean's face as he watched Sam's take in a comforted breath. Dean took solace in that moment. He scruffed Sam's hair once, before he retrieving the folded paper from his jeans that encased the Impala's keys. He loving placed it in Sam's open hand.

He desperately want to stay with Sam, but his fear of harming Sam or killing Sam was too much to bear. The Sandman had been right; Dean hadn't fooled him at all. The Sandman knew the easiest way to hurt Dean was through Sam. Even now, he could feel the Sandman's pull again, but he managed to push it back in the deepest part of his mind. "No… no more…" This begging of a broken desperate man replaced the order he had demanded earlier in his hallucination.

With concentrated effort, Dean turned, walked towards the door, and opened it without looking back. He sauntered out the door quickly, only stopping one last time to touch the Impala.

"Be good to Sammy, girl." Tears formed in the corners of his eyes as he ran his forefinger over the slit between the door and car top. The Impala was the only thing he had to give Sam, the only legacy he could leave him. The car was such a part of Dean; it was a way he would always be with Sammy. "Sammy" he mouthed as his finger grazed the car's hood. Tears of loneliness, fear, and pain fell from his eyes. He allowed himself to linger for one moment more before he stumbled down the highway.

The End.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

**This is the end of this story, but the second part is already started and on the way. This story was about the what could separate the Winchesters. The saga continues in the next story Enter the Sandman,which has already started and is on here .**


End file.
